


'Even Though I'm a Thief and Pirate'

by fandomfairytales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Hermione Granger, Blood and Injury, Captain Blood (1935) Fusion, Captain Krum is Very OOC, Daring rescue, Eventual Smut, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Healer Hermione Granger, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this for those tags, Idiots in Love, Kidnapping, Light Angst, Malfoy Manor is a Plantation, Monmouth Rebellion 1685, Mutual Pining, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Pirate! Hermione, Shipping on a Ship, Sirens, Slave Trade, Slavery, Slow Burn, Supportive Draco Malfoy, Swordfighting, Well almost, again for those in the back, at least we pissed off Lucius, but ultimately this is fluff, can i say it again, everyone will go down with this ship, frees slaves and is outlawed for her troubles, should be a Captain in there somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 10:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: Port Royal, Jamaica, 1687 is a harsh place for those who do not agree with the fact of life that is the slave trade. Plantation owners treat men like cattle and those who find it barbaric are forced to accept there is little they can do to change it.Hermione Granger, a healer by trade, simply cannot sit idly by while good people suffer under the orders of men like Lucius Malfoy, or his lackeys; so she hatches a plan, to spirit as many as she can to safety in the dead of night.Naturally, things do not go according to plan and on the path to escape, she commits her first act of piracy; simultaneously losing and stealing a heart during a fortunate encounter with Draco Malfoy, heir to his father's fortune but perhaps not his views.oOoMagic, Mythology and the Wizarding world cast; fused with the classic film Captain Blood (1935). Plenty of romance and adventure on the high seas with villainous pirates and mystical sea creatures making mischief for our intrepid couple & crew.





	1. Not Quite Home

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Pirate AU: For months now the journey has been silent - but what’s that stirring beneath the waves?

 

oOo

‘Shrinking violet’ was certainly not part of Hermione Granger’s constitution. She could play the part when she needed to, flutter her lashes, act demure, flash a little ankle every now and then, maybe even create some additional décolletage if a real advantage was required; it sickened her each time she had to resort to such measures. She was a captain, respected aboard her ship ‘The Lionheart’ and yet, the way the kidnapped scion of the Port Royal Governor looked at her, made her wonder about things she had scarcely thought of in years.

oOo

20th June 1687

It felt like an age since her childhood in Jamaica. She had grown up with the hymns of the plantation slaves in her ears, the burning heat of the sun on her skin, and billowing sails visible on the horizon. The daughter of the island’s only remaining physician and his nurse, she led a comfortable but unsheltered life, aware of the horrors the British Empire was building itself upon.

Many children on the island grew up blind as their parents, believing they were above those traded as property, but she knew better; skin made no difference, everyone had a price, and she loathed anyone who thought working people to death was an acceptable way to treat another human.

Those children had been her friends, running about in the sugarcane making mischief, until one day they snickered at a man being tortured while she retched. There had been one among them that gave her hope, but with a family like his, relying on the slave trade she couldn’t fault his silence; she also couldn’t let herself love him either.

Years went by and her heart ignored the warnings of her head.

For that reason alone, her ire was particularly directed at Governor Riddle, his stooge, Colonel Lucius Malfoy (a Lord who preferred his rank) and his society wife, Lady Narcissa. All affluent, arrogant, English nobles overseeing their West Indian enterprises, well connected and wealthy beyond comprehension; Hermione saw them for what they truly were; bejewelled bigots, willing to crush others to advance themselves, and for what?

Their riches would never be worth as much as her pure, clandestine feelings for the Malfoy’s only son.

As she grew into a woman, taking over her parent’s practice when they passed; she found herself wanting to watch it all burn. She had made friends with numerous slaves over the years, ignoring remarks regarding respectable acquaintances for a young lady of her station; some were transported over from England after the Monmouth Rebellion, others taken simply by token of their skin. She would do her best to heal them and they would show her kindness beyond what she could have imagined for people so mistreated and downtrodden.

Eventually, she snapped. Having witnessed Colonel Malfoy and his underling Snape, interrogate a slave within an inch of his life, and brand another ‘Fugitive Traitor’ after he refused to confess; she decided to help as many as she could escape. With her passion for sailing and medicinal knowledge, she was certain she could spirit them away safely.

Harry was the first to agree to her plan. Mister Potter, a rebel and a good man, fortuitously served in His Majesty’s Royal Navy and was an excellent navigator; his best friend and comrade, the honourable Mister Ronald Weasley was never far behind him; her future crew grew with their support.

Fortunately, she already owned a small boat, it was easy to supply with her tidy savings and all was well, until Draco Malfoy stumbled into her by the docks, knocking the crate she was carrying out of her arms, spilling various items all around them. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes or loudly berate him for his clumsiness and not wanting to attract additional attention, she knelt, scurrying to collect her items before he had a chance to inspect them. Only to her misfortune, she struck him in a gentlemanly mood.

He apologised sincerely and primly, dropping to his knees to assist her, completely unaware of the nervous tattoo her heart was drumming against her ribs.

“When will you be returning to Port Royal, Doctor Granger?”

Her brain stuttered as she grasped for a coherent answer, almost forgetting that once upon a time they had been quite amicable. Friendly even. Her heart thundered in her chest all the same at his proximity.

“Who said I was leaving?”

“My apologies, I simply assumed with your sailing acumen and the maps among your things that you were embarking on a journey of sorts.”

Thank God she hadn’t been carrying anything perishable, or she might have been had; those men could eat like horses. However, there was something about Draco’s recalled knowledge regarding her interests that sparked her curiosity, so she decided to humour him; switching into polite small talk and dropping the sarcastic air surrounding her lies intended to hide more than just her crime.

“Well, I'm only planning a short trip around the islands, but you can never be too prepared.”

“That’s true and for what it’s worth, I wish you a safe journey.”

“You are too kind.”

He stood, offering his hand to her, quickly releasing once she had found her feet, presumably to go about his business. Unfortunately, he did not turn to walk in the opposite direction as she had so fervently hoped. Hefting her crate, she started for her mooring only to find him catching up to her in a step or two and pulling it out of her hands.

“P-please, allow me.”

Hermione stifled a groan and pressed on, knowing that to spurn the polite gesture now would only make things worse (at least he was alone and wasn’t ordering someone else to do it).

The second he placed the crate in the hold of her boat, she brushed him off with a tight but courteous ‘thank you’ and a silent prayer that he didn’t decide to investigate her treasonous ‘journey’

Fate and Lady Luck were on her side, Malfoy was clearly none the wiser and she reached the end of the week incident-free, with no unexpected knocks on her door or presentations of handcuffs with orders to go quietly. The boat was ready, as many slaves as she could safely carry were briefed and prepared to take the path to the harbour, out of the gate she would leave unlocked for them. It was all going according to plan.

Until of course, it wasn’t. The sound of cannons boomed through the town, Spanish flags waving the projectiles off proudly from the ships primed and positioned to conquer. It was terrifying, making her way through cobbled streets while homes and businesses burned and splintered around them.

Separated from the group after Mister Longbottom tripped on a gutter spearing his hands with shards of glass from broken windows above, she quickly ripped her petticoat to bind his lacerations and tried her best not to let her fear show. Running and dodging flying debris, she wondered how they were going to make it to the harbour alive, let alone out to sea with the Spaniards blocking their only exit.

She was so lost in thought she barely had time to register the flash of blond before her, only that he would immediately sound the alarm at the sight of Longbottom following her around the corner; she stopped dead and pushed him back seconds before she was being dragged towards the church where the women and children were taking refuge.

“What in God’s name are you doing out here Granger?! You could be killed, or worse—!”

She attempted to pry her wrist out of his firm grasp, but it was futile. Her skirts billowed behind her, unable to fully hide her trousers in keeping up with his gait and she snuck a glance backwards only to see Neville following closely with murder in his eyes.

“Stop struggling! Do you honestly have a death wish?!”

“Do you?!”

Draco came to an abrupt halt, causing her to crash into his surprisingly firm chest and there was nothing she could do to stop him from seeing beyond her.

“Longbottom? What are you-?”

He looked down at her with accusation and something strangely soft in his eyes considering the situation. Was it strange to find his intensity arousing?

“They’ll hang you for this if they catch you.”

“Let her go!”

Neville roared from behind her.

She remained silent and resolved as his arms tightened around her waist instinctively. He would never let her leave now, she would be taken before the Governor, her fate would be sealed, and her friends would suffer for her failure.

She hung her head in shame, not quite touching his shoulder but close enough to pick up his subtle woody cologne and feel the heat of his body against her cheek. The fight drained from her muscles as she accepted what was to come. She barely held the presence of mind to feel anything when he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Why are you just standing there? Go…”

Her head snapped up at his tenderly murmured words. She couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

“I said _if_ they catch you.”

He released her with a gentle nudge and stepped away, his eyes molten silver and unguarded in the pale moonlight as he drew his sword and dagger, holding them out earnestly for her to take. Neville called for her, but the sound hardly carried, the subtle brush of his fingers against her own as she accepted his gift, far too hypnotic for her to register anything external.

Then she was sprinting, in the opposite direction and with far too many questions about the boy that had spent his childhood annoying her and the man who steadfastly reminded her that there were exceptions, like her.

Focused on the task ahead, she was unaware his eyes trailed after her full of emotion, that he watched her until she was well out of sight wishing he could follow, nor did she hear a faint goodbye escape his lips, dispersed by the breeze.

She also missed his intentional misdirection of troops away from the docks, and his silent, solemn hope that she would be safe, so one day he might see her again and be brave enough to give her a reason.

 

oOo


	2. Setting Sail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mentions of slavery and some light recognition of period-appropriate sexism. very brief, non-descriptive but I'm putting up a PSA anyway as a respectful precaution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 cover's the aftermath of Hermione's escape from Port Royal and fills in the three-year time jump.

 

oOo

They made it out of the harbour with a little more cunning and brawn than intended, taking the attacking Spanish man-o-war by force (and sinking the other) in the dead of night to replace her sunken craft and boldly sailing away from Port Royal with Lucius Malfoy’s everlasting vow to slaughter the lot of them nipping at the stern.

Her crew consisted of twelve men; not entirely free, technically stolen property, but with much brighter futures than they would have had, serving their sentences on the plantations.

When the time came to decide a course and hierarchy, she was elected their captain and she led them with fairness and courage, building a reputation for the newly christened ship that chilled many a weathered sea dog’s blood.

She travelled for a while, living a life of daring adventure, robbing ports and ships all over the Caribbean; her crew taking whatever riches they wanted (so long as it was pooled and distributed according to the Lionheart’s constitution). Every attempt at capture was expertly foiled, Lucius Malfoy could hunt them to his heart’s content with his little fleet, but she would always be one step ahead.

Harry and Ron, her first mate and gunner respectively, were more than happy to see their old master shown up at every turn, however with every word said against his son, she found herself feeling slighted on his behalf. One event had changed everything, but she was the only one to know it (she was also the only one to know the effect it had on her heart).

She knew there would be no convincing the rest of them without hard proof. In the three years since she sailed out of Port Royal, there had been little word of him, once or twice she had subtly enquired, but it was fruitless; the only thing she knew for sure was that he had travelled back to England and remained unattached, to the displeasure of his father.

She thought of Draco all too often, replaying childhood memories and their last encounter until she was certain it couldn’t possibly have happened the way she thought. The way he invaded her mind was somewhat unavoidable, with a reminder constantly strapped to her thigh and his sword her perpetual companion, reliably at her hip, always protecting her.

Despite her reputation as a Buccaneer, she tried to do some good with that sword, hoping to live up to how she came by it; she didn’t question why, only that she would spare who she could, when she could, only taking life in true defence of her own.

If she had let herself delve into her reasoning, she would have discovered it was so he might still think her worth kindness, should they ever meet again, and she desperately hoped that they would. As much as she cared for her crew, she knew that she wasn’t truly one of them, she was free for a start, but little did they know her heart was a traitor to their cause, truly and unknowingly in the hands of the heir to the most extensive plantations in the Caribbean.

She would attempt to talk herself out of it. Her feelings mattered very little, with an ocean between them and a likely lack of recollection regarding the night she left her home for a life of crime on the high seas; but it was no use. There was also the small matter of her record, she was wanted for treason, among other things and a man of his standing could never…

Ah yes, his standing, yet another obstacle; she was far from nobility, not entirely common born and at least she was highly educated, but she certainly was not titled. There was also the fact she was decidedly not what one would refer to as being ladylike; she wore trousers unapologetically and regularly, fought like a demon and swore like- well, like a sailor; she was hardly appropriate for him and would never belong in his society.

Those that crossed her assumed she was a man (including the great Lucius Malfoy), tall tales chose to ignore her feminine traits in favour of painting her as a ladies’ man, rather than just a lady. Few knew the truth despite the obvious, it was perhaps the only positive, but it wasn’t enough.

‘I’m a pirate, there's salt in my veins, grime and blood on my hands, he would never want me.’

‘Besides, he could never have me, even if he did; if I set a foot near British Soil, I may as well tie my own noose…’

‘…But what if?’

She would lie awake at night in her sumptuous cabin, rocked by the swell of the ocean and consider lost opportunities and loopholes, occasionally her hands would drift lower in a weak attempt to soothe the ache in her core that thinking of him sometimes brought. Every morning she would rise, only to end up right back where she started, once the darkness of her room and softness of her bed enveloped her. The only respite in her monotonous life was the call of ‘SHIP TO—!’

She drowned slowly in her loneliness, surrounded by friends and their merriment; the allure of her spoils and reputation were satisfying, far too tempting to resist. After three years toiled away at sea, she charted a course for land to gamble and drink her way through Tortuga, until she was forgetful and exhausted. Her crew were completely unopposed.

Then and only then, did she make the worst decision of her life.

She got herself a business partner. A Bulgarian by the name of Krum with a penchant for drink and violence and more intelligence than she initially gave him credit for. After spending a week in his presence, she realised how fortunate it was that she made a convincing male, or his crew might have treated her like the two-bit whores they were so fond of. Krum, on the other hand, wasn’t concerned with what was between her legs, only whether she turned a profit. With her brains and his brawn, it wasn’t going to be all that difficult.

She remained indifferent after that, regrettably, the contract had already been signed and her code of ethics agreed upon by both crews; there was no backing out. In truth, she was the greatest fool of them all. When Krum fawned over her, she endured it knowing that his attentions were false, only after her gold or perhaps just her; still, at least her crew seemed pleased with the arrangement.

In other words, at least it made them all richer at the expense and humiliation of the newly appointed Governor, Lucius Malfoy.

When they left Tortuga to resume business as usual with a promise to reconvene and share in the spoils the sea had to offer, she couldn’t help but feel that the winds of fate were changing direction, something was coming but she had no inkling what it might be and her superstitious side warred with her logic.

“Harry, chart us a course for the Isle of Virgen Magra. The long way ‘round if you please.”

“Aye, aye Captain.”

“We take whatever we encounter along the way.”

“And if we come up empty?”

She smirked down at her crew, knowing their loyalty and belief was secure.

“Have I ever failed to deliver, Ronald?”

“No ma’am, but isn’t there a saying about that kind of thing?”

“Not on My ship there isn’t.”

She retired to her cabin with the sounds of her crew’s cheers ringing behind her and a looming reminder that there was indeed a first time for everything.

 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave comments, feedback and kudos. I am always happy to chat with you wonderful people about our fave pair :)


	3. Beginning Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No extra warnings on this one (prior may still apply).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quality pining with Draco's POV; covering his childhood on the island, Hermione's escape and the following three years spent apart.

 

oOo

It had been years since Draco had seen Port Royal, as soon as the Spanish were defeated, he’d taken the next ship to England. Not out of cowardice; he simply couldn’t stand to live where she was not. Every turn greeted him with a memory, and each Sunday he was forced to relive the night he lost her on the way to mass. So, he left and tried putting it from his mind; but that didn’t stop him dreaming; which led to curiosity, to questions, to burning and desperate desire, and desire led him to the fact that he never really stopped thinking about her.

She’d made quite the name for herself since, it wasn’t hard to find news of her antics at sea, in a twisted way, it was reassuring to know she was alive. He was rather proud of the pirate queen, featured in every newspaper available, the scourge of the Caribbean, renowned throughout the empire and colonies, someone to be feared and yet a worthy champion of the oppressed; Never taking more than she needed and wreaking freedom and havoc wherever she could.

If the wanted posters were anything to go by (and they hardly did her justice featuring her as male), she still carried his sword; the winding snake hilt was unmistakable, thus its inclusion and he couldn’t help but wonder if it made her think of him fondly when she inevitably brandished it. He certainly thought of her. He had known her all his life and loved her just as long; they played together, teased one another, he would pull her riotous curls and she would yank his ear, it was just how they were. Until she grew up…Until they grew apart.

He had known her parents were abolitionists. Even as a boy it wasn’t difficult to pick the ones that were, the disapproval never quite left their eyes and Hermione had formed a similar opinion at a very young age. The girl from his memories hardly knew how to stay silent on the matter to remain out of trouble.

Little did she know, she inspired him to look harder at the system men like his father relied so heavily upon; eventually he came to the same conclusion as her, however, he knew there was no possibility of change. He did his best to improve their conditions when his Father deemed him old enough to give orders; but once caught, his father dismantled his initiatives and disciplined him for his efforts.

In the end, he never could have imagined how much further she was willing to go for her beliefs, and in his own way he loved her more for it; unrequited as it seemed.

 

oOo

He’d thought after their run in at the docks there might be a spark of friendship remaining, and when he saw her the night Port Royal was attacked, he almost died with fear, catching her out in the open, unprotected, with the Spanish closing in. He knew what men like that did to women and his heart lurched in his chest with an intense, primal need to keep her safe.

In his frustration, he discovered why she was running toward the danger and he wanted to die for another reason. He would have to let her go, there was no other choice, he couldn’t hide what she had done, Father would never let it go and with Governor Riddle’s ear, there was no telling the horrors the court might inflict upon her. So, he sent her off with his weapons in his stead and a prayer for the girl he had secretly admired for years, now beyond his reach.

Or so he thought. After all this time, she still carried a piece of him with her.

 

oOo

Time moved slowly, every day spent in England felt like a year (the years themselves decades). He drove himself to seek distraction, making friends among the young lords of London, gambling and drinking with them, but never more; he enjoyed their company to a point, but with his heart spoken for, he hardly wanted to look at another woman the way they did. They looked down their pasty, crooked noses at him.

He spent time with his extended family, his aunt Bella and her husband Rodolphus were more than accommodating, so long as he ignored the backhanded comments about his marital status and avoided the vapid, predatory females they threw his way in the hopes of rectifying the issue.

All in all, fending off advances and unwanted feminine charm was an immense distraction as he tried to ignore and simultaneously respect his heart; the traitorous organ in his chest, that wanted more than it was afforded with no indication such attention was welcome in the first place.

But it still wasn’t enough to chase away the shadows of his loneliness, he missed her. Even though they were hardly as close as they once were, he felt the weight of her absence. Unaware that his occasional glimpses of her were sustaining him; a fleeting smile in the crowded markets, a chance encounter on his morning ride, simply knowing she was nearby at any given moment was comforting to him.

Now they were on separate paths, likely in different hemispheres, and it would be his life’s greatest regret if they never crossed.

 

oOo

It all began again with a letter and a new King, as most tales tended to.

Governor Riddle was stepping down on account of poor health and had nominated Draco’s father his successor; like he required more power than he already held. Colonel, Lord, the protector of Port Royal, leader of the fleet tasked with hunting down the Pirate queen (as Draco liked to call her) and others in her line of work and of course, the richest man in the Caribbean; Lucius didn’t need another feather in his cap, but he received it all the same.

Draco was expected to return to Jamaica for the induction ceremony and to take over the family business while his father served his King once more. For the first time in three years, he would brave the crossing to the West Indies. But it wasn’t fear of superstition or unpredictable seas between England and Jamaica that required courage; It was the possibility of seeing Hermione again.

Would she even remember? Would she be too changed? It mattered not, fate may yet decide it was not on his side, it was all too likely he would complete the journey without seeing hide nor hair of a pirate vessel. He wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.

With his belongings packed and sent to the ship patiently awaiting him, he wondered what the next five to six weeks held in store as he bid his Aunt and Uncle farewell from his carriage.

It felt like new beginnings setting sail, like promise instead of unbearable dread. As the crew expertly guided them out of the harbour, he took a last lingering look at the dreary city of his birth and knew that it would never be home.

It took three days for boredom to truly set in. Another morning before he decided leaving his cabin and his books might be a worthwhile exercise. It was then he encountered Lord Black, Emissary of the recently coronated King William and coincidentally a relative, albeit one he, unfortunately, hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting.

Sirius was a kindly sort and his surly features hid his sense of humour well before Draco got to know him. He was travelling on classified orders from King William and they became fast friends. Many a day was spent passing the time together; fencing or playing chess, often leading them to talk through the night and well into the following morning on a variety of subjects. But their favourite topic was pirates.

After stopping in the Azores for fresh supplies, tall tales and legends of devious deeds and intrigue upon the high seas spread like wildfire and the two of them lapped it up. The closer they came to those lawless, creature-infested waters, the tighter hope coiled around his heart.

It didn’t take long for Black to pick up on his interest in tales regarding ‘The Lionheart’ and a certain pirate with long, wild hair. Draco spilt the truth no less than a week later over many a tankard of ale, telling Sirius all about the little hellion from his childhood, the strong-willed girl with an overdeveloped, but admirable sense of justice and the woman she became; the woman who captured his heart without him knowing, the one who continued to rescue slaves and made lesser men plead for their gold and their lives, the one he admired so ardently.

Sirius was naturally amazed to discover that the Lionheart’s captain was, in fact, a woman. It seemed London’s tales and incorrect assumptions were nurtured in the boudoirs of bored society wives dreaming of adventure to escape their humdrum lives, or perhaps spice up tea with other ladies in their acquaintance.

Sirius’ knowledge was therefore rather limited and painted Hermione as a scoundrel intent on stealing more than just a lady’s jewellery. It was laughable; he remembered her prim, reserved nature all too well.

 

oOo

After numerous hours spent correcting such wild tales, Sirius revealed the true purpose of his journey. It didn’t come without a few difficult admissions on his part.

“You love her, don’t you?”

His stammering and ensuing silence was all the answer Sirius required. He held up a hand, silencing and reassuring him before explaining.

“I think you and I might be of use to one another. I'm not just an emissary… I’m looking for trouble, the kind of trouble your Hermione brings with her.”

“You're hunting pirates? Why?!”

He couldn’t help the frantic tone in his voice, his trust in Lord Black waned so fast his head spun; and he’d betrayed her, correcting the man who sought her when it was likely he planned to destroy her.

“Calm yourself boy, I mean her no harm. I only wish to speak with her.”

“I don’t see how I can help you, I’ve been in England these last three years; I doubt she would take a second look before her crew killed me; I am Lucius Malfoy’s son, after all, many of them would have died on Father’s plantation if it weren’t for her.”

“Ah, but I'm counting on that. They would want to kill you slowly and she couldn’t possibly ignore you then. If we find them, I require an introduction and I am fortunate to have someone she would be willing to listen to. You mentioned she still carried your sword, that it appeared on her wanted posters?”

“Yes, but what on earth does it have to do with making introductions?”

“If she didn’t care, she would have discarded it as soon as possible; and yet with all the riches at her fingertips, she still carries it.”

“It was a fine blade, no one in their right mind would discard it.”

“Then you truly are daft, if you believe that’s the only reason she kept it.”

“How do _you_ intend to find her? My father’s fleet hasn’t come across her in three years and we haven’t even reached her territory?”

“I’m counting on a little luck and if that fails, weeell, let’s just say I'm perseverant when my King orders me not to return until I have delivered his message to her.”

“He might be the new king, but I don’t trust him, or you for that matter; if you betray us and hand her a death sentence, I swear I will kill you; relative or not.”

“I guarantee that is not my intent.”

“That’s hardly reassuring. My vow still stands.”

“You will see in time Draco that the King and I bear her no ill will, she has more to fear from your immediate family truth be told.”

He could do nothing but nod in agreement. On her list of threats, his father was likely one through ten. But that didn’t mean he trusted Lord Black’s word completely.

 

oOo

As the journey dragged on, they avoided speaking of pirates and it was clear both were trying to ignore the seed of mistrust that had been planted, until one night it came to a head.

The captain announced offhandedly that they had entered pirate waters and within a day and a half, came the first sighting of a ship off the port bow, just before dusk.

“Could it be pirates?”

Black asked the Captain calmly.

“Hard to tell at this distance, can’t quite make out her colours, looks like a red flag but you never know in these waters.”

Night fell, and the unknown ship slipped into the darkness, lost among the budding stars.

The second time he heard the call he had been certain he was still dreaming.

“SHIP TO STARBOARD … SHIP TO STARBOARD … SHE'S COMING UP FAST, COULD BE PIRATES!”

Everyone aboard scurried to dress in the scant light of dawn and when he ran out to see for himself, he couldn’t help but press his hand to the hilt of his sword.

She sailed a man-o-war, it couldn’t possibly be her, this was closer to a Spanish galleon and appeared to rise out of the water like a skeleton from the grave.

Dread settled in his gut and as the ship caught up to them and he wondered, for the briefest of moments, if he would make it out alive.

The attack was brutal; when their adversaries hoisted their flag, even the captain paled. A red dragon clutching a spear, evidently meant they were to face Captain Krum.

“Not quite the pirate you were hoping for, eh Black?”

“At least we’ll get a good death out of it.”

“Well, that inspires confidence.”

Krum was swift and final when there was no worth before him. However, Draco and Sirius, fortunately, appeared rich enough to ransom and were taken aboard his ship, to live and suffer another day.

Bound and gagged, they watched from the deck as Durmstrang’s cannons obliterated their ship before being shoved in the brig to await the Captain’s verdict on the Isle of Virgen Magra.

 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please feel free to bug me in the comments or leave kudos; replying to feedback is the best part of my day :) 
> 
> xo- Em


	4. Pay the Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's POV and a couple of light warnings for violence and a minor character death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What good is a Pirate AU without a swordfight over a damsel?
> 
> also please see the link below for a glossary of fencing terms :)  
> [Fencing Glossary](https://www.busybwebdesign.com/saskfencing/fencing_glossary.htm)

 

oOo

Three ships... Three measly ships, after months at sea, and she didn’t even bother attacking the one they sighted a day out from their deadline.

They had more than reached their target with the French ship they intercepted, her spices and loot carefully stowed away to be pooled with Krum’s takings. But, despite their success, her usual enthusiasm was significantly lacking. She was listless, unfocused and disinterested in showing up her Bulgarian partner; and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“'Mione, are you feeling well?”

“I wish I knew how to answer that, Ron.”

“Then there is something wrong with you, I knew it.”

“It isn’t an illness per se, it’s not something I can cure.”

“Aw, surely you don’t believe that? You're the best 'Mione, patched me up more times than I care to count.”

“I'm afraid this isn’t a wound that needs stitching.”

“Well then, what can I do to help?”

“Stay a while?”

“Always.”

Ron was a good friend. Kind, loyal, funny; there had been a time, ever so brief that she thought she might have felt more for him than simple platonic emotions; he would have been easy to love, but nothing in her life was ever so straightforward (not to mention the disaster falling for a crewmember might cause, there are no clean breaks at sea). Though he seemed to return her sentiments, it left them in a rather awkward position, one they were forced to ignore. Over time things mellowed and both realised that it was for the best, they would always be there for one another, just not in such intimate ways.

Excluding Harry, he was her closest confidante and for the first time in a long while, she felt that talking about anything else might be of assistance. She knew there was simply no explaining her new, shallow melancholy, or the feeling something important had passed her by without notice; quite frankly she wasn’t in the mood to undertake such introspective feats.

Though she did wonder if the cause was something more literal; perhaps connected to the English ship she spared. Dusk had almost settled when Mister Thomas alerted her to the sight of sails in the distance. They could have caught up easily, her crew had been all for it, but instead, she decided to let them slip through and travel safe into the night, unaccosted.

For some strange reason, that ship stirred something in her; protectiveness perhaps? Like she was intuitively shielding them from the horrors she could inflict with an order and a flick of her rapier. It was something she had never experienced in the past.

As they made haste for Virgen Magra, she became even less interested in the hustle and bustle of the deck, leaving the everyday matters to Ron and Harry, choosing instead to lie in her bed reading this tome or that, passing the time until she had to deal with the oaf awaiting her arrival on the island.

When she was finally forced out of hiding the day before they were set to reach the shore, she passed her absence off as ‘planning’ (which wasn’t a complete lie). She knew Krum would likely attempt to test the limits of their contract and or her annexed code of conduct, being unprepared was not an option.

 

oOo

They reached the island under fair conditions, the sun was shining fortuitously, as though it could chase away the dread settling in all their bellies.

She ordered her men to drop anchor at an inlet further north than agreed, intending to feign error once they reached their fellow buccaneers.

She was met with mild complaint, however, despite the long trek carrying heavy loads, they would be safe from Durmstrang’s formidable cannons and able to defend themselves on land should the Bulgarian crew turn rowdy.

After disembarking and beginning the journey in sweltering conditions, she knew she had made the right choice. The trees were thin, there was little scrub and thus a minuscule chance of an ambush; there would be no treachery until she reached the correct beach and that she was more than capable of handling when the time came.

After climbing the backs of the dunes, leaving two snipers strategically placed to cover her, she felt secure in their arrival. If Krum attempted to betray her, she would only need to signal, and his men would be overwhelmed or picked off from above.

She stepped lightly across the sand, her boots sinking in, leaving abstract impressions in her wake. Her men followed closely, and she swallowed the nervous lump in her throat before she reached Krum’s makeshift canopy.

“Ah, I see my lovely partner has finally decided to join us! Please sit, drink, enjoy.”

He embraced her, and she tugged away before his hands could wander, hoping she hid her disdain well while eyeing the table he had invited her to.

It appeared he had guests (though she supposed if they were gagged, 'guest' was a relative term), and she could do little to hide her shock. It didn’t escape Krum’s notice.

“Oh yes, I see you’ve noticed my noble company; I picked these two, fine gentlemen up yesterday. Rather a turn of fortune is it not? I was almost certain to arrive empty-handed, but I should think their ransoms vill be more than sufficient to cover my end of our bargain.”

She could barely focus on Krum. Familiar, silvery blond hair caught the light, attracting her gaze like the flash of a coin in the sun. Her heart raced, and she began to panic. Her blood slowed in her veins as her breathing grew erratic and shallow.

She had never known coincidence to hurt so much. The sight of Draco Malfoy at Krum’s table sent pain searing through every inch of her body as she tried to comprehend his seemingly divined appearance. It was as if she willed him into existence with all her moping and wondering about ships passing in the night.

There he sat, tragically handsome as he had been in the moonlight three years ago, begging her to run; her world began to tilt, and she knew she couldn’t let herself swoon. Appearing weak would get her killed before she even hit the ground.

How was she going to save him from this? Her crew would sooner let him die than help her rescue him, it would be a miracle if they held ranks and didn’t jump the table to run him though. Krum would kill him if he found out his father was leading the oceanic crusade against pirates; ransom or no.

Rage began to boil under the surface at the inconvenience of it all; she wanted to kill him herself, for sheer stupidity, for being captured in the first place, and for magically appearing in her life once again, just when everything was balanced on a knife-edge.

To make matters worse, her first glimpse of him in three years and she couldn’t even acknowledge him. She could hardly bear the strain of keeping her expressions blank, as her long-suffering, suppressed feelings burst forth like a gunshot.

Nothing hurt more than ignoring Draco to keep him safe. Her heart warred with her brain to approach, desperately needing to ensure he was unscathed and discover if he was hers; She could see the hurt deep in his eyes at her feigned lack of recognition and as much as it cut her to the quick, it gave her hope, that perhaps when this was all over there might be something between them to discuss. Provided she could mount a successful rescue and so long as Krum remained unaware of his prisoner’s importance; then Draco would remain unharmed, just another Lord with a rich patriarch to pay for his safe return.

She had completely tuned Krum out, her mind working triple speed trying to come up with some semblance of a plan. Only when he placed his hand on the small of her back to lead her to a seat, did she realise negotiations had begun.

He was polite enough, pulling her chair out and seating her before himself; it was all positioning and ploy, like a bird puffing its feathers to appear larger than it was; she knew he was showing his men that he thought himself above her. However, he was unaware that the brilliant mind he had overcomplimented was seeking a way to destroy him while he sat there popping grapes in his mouth suggestively (obnoxiously, from where she sat).

“So, what do you intend to do with such _noble_ specimens?”

“Ransom them of course, I’d wager someone is expecting them and vould pay dearly to have them arrive in vun piece.”

“But that would mean sending demands into Port Royal. Only a fool would sail into enemy territory to make demands; you must have a genius plan to get by the fleet.”

She watched Krum’s expression fall; He hadn’t thought it all the way through. Did he honestly think he could sail into Port Royal and petition a ransom? Apparently, he did. Imbecile.

He stammered, claiming to search for the right words, but it was a ruse; he spoke English perfectly and it was clear to everyone, including his captives that he was attempting to come up with an intelligent answer. He was scrambling to keep hold of his respect and reputation under the scrutiny of her revelation, so she continued.

“Do you have a contact in Port Royal? Someone to act as a middle man? Perhaps you plan to send one of your crew in on your behalf? You’d have to send someone expendable, seeing as they’d be meeting the noose instead.”

Krum’s face had turned an ugly shade of puce and she stifled a laugh at the little vein protruding and pulsing under the skin of his forehead. A quick glance across the table and she found her crew looking utterly shocked by her brash behaviour, Krum's crew looking concerned for their necks and two awed prisoners, clever enough to recognise her tactics.

“I have no such intentions and no introduction.”

“Then you're in trouble. Why not let me take them off your hands? You get your money, rather than your neck stretched.”

“You?! Ha. Do you think I'm stupid enough to let you vander into Port Royal to collect my ransom money?”

“No, I think you're stupid enough to sell them to me, fair and square.”

She was just about to ignite an argument with Krum when she heard muffled protests from behind, she whirled around, her coattails spinning with her and strode over to Draco, pulling the gag from his mouth with a violent tug.

He worked his jaw and spoke up quickly, his tone curt and haughty.

“And what if I don’t _wish_ to be bought by _you_?”

She cocked a brow at him, still stern but far less angry than she had been, her annoyance, however, was not mitigated and she hissed back;

“You are hardly in a position to have anything to say about it.”

She replaced his gag quickly, while his mouth still hung open, smirking wickedly before returning her attention to Krum; and if she added a little more sway to her hips as she walked away from him, who could judge?

“Now then, where were we; oh yes, we were discussing the fact that according to our contract you cannot claim rights to these prisoners without paying your dues; something I intend to correct.”

“You couldn’t afford ze likes ov them.”

“Oh? Is that right? And you know this how, exactly?”

Once again, she silenced him with logic and sarcasm. His crew was beginning to look even more disenchanted with their erupting, humiliated captain and for a moment, she let herself think that this might actually end up working out.

She still hadn’t quite learned the ‘what could go wrong’ lesson.

“You have tventy thousand pieces of eight?”

She waved her hand noncommittally, a small smirk playing at her lips.

“Is that all you intend to ask for them?” she scoffed.

“It is; can you pay it?”

Her eyes snuck over to the two prisoners; they didn’t deserve what would happen if they remained on the Durmstrang.

She resolved to buy them both. Perhaps her _owning_ Draco would be enough to placate her crew, a fair reversal of fortunes. From her breast pocket, she drew a small purse, watching the Durmstrang men carefully in her periphery.

From the purse, she shook out a number of pristine pearls, stepping forward with her left hand returning to linger near her sword, while she presented them to Krum’s first mate Poliakoff for inspection.

“You boast a knowledge of pearls; at what do you value each of those?”

He plucked one from her hand with grimy fingers and eyed it closely before biting it. She held back her disgust at it's slightly wet return to her hand but didn’t let it distract her from watching his reaction and body language. He looked over at an irate Krum and she knew instantly he planned to undervalue them. Her inner monologue raged at the dishonesty; Bloody thieves the lot of them, even if she was counted among them.

“Hmm, no more than a thousand pieces each?”

She stifled a sarcastic groan watching him seek the approval of Krum before she continued, pointedly waving the pearls about to tease them, a sly plan already forming as she did.

“They’re worth rather more, but, very well, here are twelve; they’re three fifths the value of the prize due your ship for having made the capture... For the share due my men, I make myself responsible.”

She smirked and purposefully locked eyes with Krum before tossing a pearl into the throng of men gathered to his right. Krum’s men scrambled and fought like a flock of seagulls over a scrap of bread in the sand, whooping with delight when they unearthed the rest.

“Harry, take the prisoners back to the Lionheart, I believe we are done here.”

She could feel Krum’s eyes burning holes in her back as she walked away and adrenaline slipped into her bloodstream heightening her senses, allowing her to hear the snick and scrape of his blade leaving its scabbard.

“VEE ARE NOT DONE HERE! YOU VILL NOT TAKE THEM!”

She nodded to Harry and he quickly ushered her crew to stand above the dunes, when he subtly gestured to the approximate position of their sniper, a silent question, she shook her head and shrugged off her coat and vest, throwing them up to him by way of an answer. She intended to finish this herself.

Krum was still behind her presenting his challenge and working himself into an arrogant frenzy, ignoring his first mate’s advice to stand down.

She took her time, rolling up her shirtsleeves and stretching, knowing it would only serve to infuriate him further; if she could make his blood boil over, she could exploit the weakness anger provided. It worked a charm; he rushed her and seconds before he could strike, she twirled out of the way, drawing her sword in one fluid movement.

She wasn’t nervous, it was business, plain and simple and she knew of one certain way to terminate their contract.

Still amazed by the craftsmanship and intricacy, she levelled it at Krum, accepting his challenge, twin snakes stared him down much like herself.

“Two breaches of our articles committed by you; You should be marooned. It’s what I intended for you in the end... But since you prefer it this way, you cockroach, I’ll have the pleasure of crushing you under my heel to myself!”

He attempted to toy with her, perhaps he thought he was intimidating? His blade met hers in a lengthy coulé, the shrill slide of steel against steel almost made her cringe, but his expression remained positively manic.

When he finally attacked, her riposte was resolute, her blade circling, flicking his away with ease, to his evident surprise.

It was more of a dance than a battle. For a man of his size, Krum was lightning fast, but she believed she had the advantage; she was slight and agile, allowing her to easily dodge and parry his more forceful blows.

He tested her skills, that much was certain, within moments she began to feel perspiration beading at her hairline, ready to drip down and distract her, but she was determined to stay focused; she refused to die on this beach.

She fought like the eye of a hurricane, calm at her centre, her outskirts furious. She was surgical, and her footwork was perfect, but there was a blossoming rage behind it all while she planned his defeat. She barely reacted when he slashed her arm open, her concentration was unshakeable and after a quick-witted remark, she was back on her feet and prepared to finish it once and for all.

Her ballestra caught him off guard, ferocious as a lion, she struck and wounded him. His redoublement pushed her backwards until they were corps à corps. His body pressed against hers, fighting for dominance and she felt a sick sense of dread when she noted that he was enjoying this in more ways than one. She grunted, struggling to push him away and found herself pinned.

Taking a breath to steady herself while he began to monologue, she was hardly attentive to his declaration of his true intentions, unable to care in with his blade drawing blood at her throat.

“You thought I vould follow those foolish articles? I wanted vot you had, I vas alvays going to kill you… After I had my fun.”

She couldn’t bring herself to care. Pushing back again and again, catching herself multiple times on the edge of his sabre, literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Then it struck her; she brought her knee up, using her strength between them to force a single step back, he ignored the pain of her underhanded tactic, but it still gave her the space she needed to scramble for the high ground.

Having finally gained the upper hand, she rained blows down upon him, defending her advantage knowing that it couldn’t last. He took a brave chance clambering up onto the rock platform to meet her but couldn’t recover in the face of her skills. She had him retreating and chased him down to the water's edge.

He stumbled and that was all the opening Hermione required. Her blade struck true, she pushed it deeper and he slipped with a sickening crack as his skull met jagged rock.

She turned to face both her crew and Krum’s as the victor, watching for signs of unrest or another attack, but it didn’t come. He had been the best of them, to face her was certain death and they bowed their heads in submission as she stepped off her natural podium.

Welcomed back into the awed throng of her crew with hearty congratulations, she handed Harry her bloodied rapier with quiet thanks and set off ahead of them, wiping sweat, grime and hair from her face with an unseen grimace.

 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, Feedback and Kudos give me life, so feel free to chat away. 
> 
> xo- Em


	5. Each Year Spent Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, warnings: minor injuries/blood, violence against mythical creatures (I'm taking the piss with that one).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we depart from the plot of Captain Blood to embark on a treacherous journey through Siren Territory. (also finally includes the actual prompt)

 

oOo

Draco couldn’t believe his luck; excluding the part about being kidnapped by pirates (twice), she swooped in like a Valkyrie, a goddess from the heavens, her (his former) blade glinting in the sun like it was blessed in her hands.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, they had sparred years ago, but seeing her fight now, was something akin to an erotic experience. He couldn’t help but appreciate her talent, she was transcendent. Lord Black had certainly noticed and made a point of shutting his mouth for him with a knowing chuckle.

Back on her ship with the adrenaline all but dissolved, he forced himself to put her from his mind; instead, watching her crew with a wary eye as they avoided him. The son of a master, on a ship full of escaped slaves, did not bode well.

And yet when they did finally approach him, they were kind; they offered him bread and a flask which he accepted gratefully. When Harry, Ron and Neville sat beside him, he nodded at each of them and wondered what could possibly occur to surprise him next.

“Neville told us what you did.” Potter almost blurted.

“Begging your pardon?”

“The night we escaped; Hermione thinks we don’t know, but we’re all thankful that you decided to help us.”

He didn’t quite know what to say. One choice and they were fine with the rest of what his family did? he hummed in acknowledgement and shrank into himself, feeling that it wasn’t enough to warrant such forgiveness.

“You need to talk to her.”

“Unfortunately, Mister Weasley, talking to her isn’t up to me.”

“Please, you're just afraid of what might happen if you did.”

He felt petulance rise in his throat and choked it down before forming a response, choosing instead to be honest.

“That I am.”

All three looked at him with knowing sympathy and Draco almost smiled. Harry patted his knee encouragingly, with only a small amount of pity.

“Door at the end, fancy looking hinges, you can’t miss it.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Her cabin, imbecile.”

This time he did crack a smile, shaking Neville’s hand first, then Harry’s and Ron’s before making his way to the stern. After years and thousands of leagues apart, was it wrong for his heart to stutter the way it did?

He knocked gently on the door frame, receiving no answer. However, when he pressed his ear against the door, it yielded and creaked open. Curious he stepped inside, calling her name quietly and finding her with his eyes in the same second.

He thanked every god he knew of that she was asleep. Nestled in the centre of her cabin, deep in a copper tub filled with scented water, he wouldn’t have liked to walk in on her bare as the day she was born, while conscious; he’d end up like Krum.

He averted his eyes quickly after shaking off his shock, he had seen more than he had ever even considered, and it roused something deep within him (among other things), something he spent years failing to suppress in the dark privacy of his bedroom. But for now, such feelings were obtrusive and unwelcome, he was first and foremost a gentleman, and he was definitely going to ignore the tightening of his trousers to tend her wounds.

The deep gashes on her arms faced him and he felt sufficiently deflated by the sharp pang of regret at the sight; she would be scarred because of him.

He quietly moved to sit beside the tub, his view obscured by the angle and tore both his shirt cuffs off as quietly as he could, removing his cravat for good measure. Using the jug beside her to wash away the crusted blood surrounding her wounds, he gently bound each of them, resisting the urge to kiss her newly disfigured skin better, before tiptoeing over to her desk and taking a seat.

As he sat and pondered, he realised she had left the door unlocked as a precaution, she understood the dangers of shock and prepared accordingly; ever the thoughtful physician.

She looked so peaceful there, he wondered how her face could yield such terrifying expressions in the heat of battle and remain so innocent. When she eventually woke, dazed but calm, he watched her take note of his makeshift bandages before locking eyes with him.

“Hello.”

He chastised himself for having little else to say. In his mind, he would have launched into great professions of all that he had hidden since they were children, but his mouth didn’t know how to move, his eloquence was completely lost around her. At least she wasn’t frightened of him, though he supposed that he looked so painfully awkward she could hardly see him as a threat; the last vestiges of trust between them gave him that much leeway.

“How long have you been there?”

“Not long…” Long enough to have his world tipped off its axis.

He stood, taking her robe off the desk where he had found it and clamped his hand over his eyes (for both their sakes) walking over to her gingerly. She thanked him tiredly and he felt the urge to bundle her up and never let her go. He held out his hand to help her out and was forced to open his eyes to catch her when she stumbled on coltish legs.

In one swift movement, he picked her up, ignoring how improper (and suggestive) it was and carried her over to the bed. Placing her down tenderly, he was just about to swallow his pride and confess when there were shouts beyond them, something about a splinter. No _‘The Splinter’_.

She shot up, realisation striking her alone; he had no idea what the squalling was about, but she dressed in a blur (much to his dismay), shaking off the effects of the day’s trials to deal with this new obstacle.

He followed her out and heeded her motion to join her on the quarter deck. Harry scurried to her side and began conferring with her, they spoke so quickly he only managed to retain snippets of their hushed conversation;

“…How many leagues?”

“Not far, but we have no choice if we want to avoid the storm-”

“We’ll need to make preparations…”

“Or we could sail _away_ from Port Royal? Live to fight another day?”

“… Tie everyone to the mast if you must, if Odysseus managed so will we.”

“But how will we get through? You need a spotter.”

“I’ve sailed through worse.”

“Are you certain it won’t affect you?”

“I'm a woman, as far as I know, I’ll be fine.”

Draco had been at sea for months now, the journey had been silent, but something was stirring beneath the waves; after seeking an explanation for their odd conversation, he couldn’t shake the dread burning new and rampant in his gut.

Soon there would be music cresting on every ripple and silence would be nothing more than a wish. He’d never put much stock in superstition, but the fear in every pair of eyes aboard was enough to convince him they were sailing to their doom. Sailors didn’t enter siren territory lightly. Strangely that wasn’t even the worst of it.

“Why in God’s name are you sailing for Port Royal!?”

She ignored him, looking through her spyglass at the storm brewing distantly.

_“Hermione!?”_

“What!?”

Suddenly words wouldn’t come easily, she went to turn away and he pulled her back.

“My Father’s fleet is there, you know what will happen if they catch you, why take the risk?”

“I don’t take prisoners.”

“And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it means.” She retorted with a heavy air of sarcasm.

“So, you’ll get us all killed for the sake of getting rid of me then?”

“That’s not—”

“It is and you know it. But you're wrong, ask anyone here, I haven’t exactly been protesting my _‘capture’_.”

She quieted, considering, and Draco hoped he’d gotten through; he tried not to be disappointed when she shoved past him and took the helm, steering her ship directly towards the twin shards of rock rising from the deep.

When she released her white-knuckle grip on the wheel, passing control to Harry, Draco could feel the tension rising in the air.

“Mister Weasley!”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Find all the rope you can, bandages, spare sails if you must, anything that can be used to tie a man down, assemble the crew once you’ve finished.”

“Aye, aye Captain.”

She stormed back to her cabin, rumbling obscenities like thunder to make preparations, he followed like a lost lamb, knowing that he needed to say (or do) something to change her course. It was perhaps the most desperate moment he would ever experience. Closing the door behind him, he wasted no time marching over to make said point.

She was clearly trying to busy herself, stripping the sheets and blankets off her bed when he pulled her up to face him, close enough to feel her breath against his cheek.

“Tell me I'm not the only one that feels this?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes, but he needed to hear her answer.

“To them, it makes me a traitor. You still own them, I can’t just-”

“You can… please, I need to hear it; I have to know you don’t hate me, that you…”

He hadn’t intended to sound so broken, but if pleading got him an answer, he didn’t mind ruffling his pride.

“That I love you?”

He didn’t hear her at first.

“…Urgh, God help me I can’t stand not knowing, three years of wondering is enough to drive a man ma- wait, did you just?”

His speech and his heart stopped simultaneously, clenching while he waited for confirmation.

“That’s what you're asking, isn’t it? If I love you back? Because so help me Draco Malfoy, timing be damned, if you don’t say it when I do, I will take the dagger you gave me and run you through with it.”

Smiling wasn’t an expression he would say suited him, but he hardly cared in the moment. His mouth worked faster than his brain and there they were.

“I love you.”

Three words, one for each year spent apart and somehow still insufficient, underwhelming, unable to encompass the lifetime before, tinged with his denial and ignorance.

Their timing was undeniably off, abysmal as it had been the night she ran, but there was promise this time; this time, he would stay and follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked him to.

They were so close to breaking down the dam between them and introducing flesh to flesh, he clutched her to his chest as he leant down to capture her lips, when there was an obnoxiously urgent rap on the door.

They sprung apart and Hermione needlessly straightened her jacket before bidding the intruder entry.

“The crew has been gathered, they’re just waiting for orders.”

“Of course, I’ll be right along, thank you, Mister Thomas.”

She waited for the telltale snick of the latch before she turned and apologised, her indifferent mask firmly back in place.

His heart grieved.

Three years of waiting had left both of them needing something more, their loneliness and pining poured into the atmosphere, heating it from gentle simmer to a boil.

He was almost disappointed when she began to smooth her clothes and comb her hair with her fingers. She did the same for him, fussing until she was certain they were presentable, all the while avoiding his attempts at kissing every inch of her face.

 

oOo

She was so determined to reach Port Royal, to get him back home safe, before he had a chance to break her heart with some offhanded comment, but she had misjudged and now it was too late to turn back, with the wind behind them, they entered the channel with brave faces and roiling nerves. The Lionheart reached the gateway sooner than expected and he found himself tied to the ship along with every other man aboard.

Halfway through, tendrils of mist began to surround them, and he kept his eyes fixed on Hermione at the helm, sensing something inhuman observing her; he knew it was risky to free himself of his bonds, but with her life in danger, how could he do anything but. The sirens would slaughter her first and with the rest of them tied, they would have no chance of avoiding peril.

The rippled dragon hilt was comforting in his hand as he furtively sliced through the thick ropes circling him and he prayed he could resist the siren’s melody long enough to save her. Glowing, green eyes glared at them through the thick haze and he worked frantically at his binds, their agitated humming reverberated off every surface, sending chills down his spine; any moment now it would begin.

The rope gave way with a snap the moment they sounded their battle cry. The sirens flocked to the tied men, petting and touching them in ways that were hardly appropriate; he couldn’t hide his disgust. The creatures were almost transparent (like soap bubbles filled with water) with figures men and women craved, however, their faces were nothing short of demonic. Whatever the crew saw, it was not what he was witnessing, or hearing. Their song was nothing like the tales; to him, it sounded like nails dragging down a chalkboard and endless screams of agony.

There were approximately thirteen with the crew and four closing in on Hermione as the rest lingered above, waiting their turn. He bounded up the stairs, Hermione’s cries of anguish and protest ringing in his ears while he slashed at her first attacker.

The siren audibly popped when his dagger met her abdomen, splashing both of them with what he hoped was just sea water. Her sisters all whipped around to look at them with what he assumed was horror (he couldn’t tell) and the real attack began.

“May I?”

He pecked her cheek quickly and didn’t wait for a response, drawing her sword and swinging it with a flourish to dispatch her would be assailant.

“Stay there, steer; I’ll handle this.”

He wasn’t certain if the ones he killed were reforming or if more were appearing out of the mist, but it felt like he had killed hundreds. The crew below were all still safely bound but clearly affected, judging by the way they struggled and reached for the visions the sirens were projecting.

“How are you doing that?!” She queried from her perch.

“Doing what!?”

“Why don’t they affect you!?”

“Do I look like I fucking know!? What about you!?”

“All the myths say they exist to lure men!”

“What are you trying to imply, Hermione!?”

Amidst all the terror, she laughed, and it bolstered his resolve tenfold. She was everything, his reason and he wouldn’t fail her; for the sake of her laugh, and every other minute thing that formed reasons to love her; he couldn’t lose.

His muscles burned, and his heart raced as he fought to protect Hermione, heeding her calls as he fought, warning him of each advance, The sirens tried everything to overpower him but remained unsuccessful; he was certain they were surprised and perhaps a little frightened, however, they did not attempt to amend their plan. Sinking them was their only goal, imprudent creatures.

He didn’t have time to wonder why, as another siren advanced and attempted to bite a chunk out of him with her spindly teeth; He quickly realised that despite being rather easy to dispatch, they were incredibly difficult to see; able to disappear at will, their only tell; a slight shimmer when the light hit just right causing refraction (which explained the heavy fog).

When Potter broke free, sprinting for the portside railing, crying ‘Woman overboard!’, he knew things were going to hell in a handbasket, fast. Someone clearly overlooked his aptitude for escaping. His panicked screams told the story of his hallucination and Draco did his best to keep the man on board, but it came at a cost.

They were relatively close to the exiting the gorge when all hell broke loose. Without his vigilant protection of the stern, Hermione was forced to abandon the helm and defend herself, Harry was thrashing about in his anguish, making it difficult to contain him and in a sick twist of fate, Thomas and Finnigan with a siren’s assistance, managed to break free of their bonds; both trying to rescue visions of each other, unable to see through the illusion.

After wrangling Harry below decks, he quickly managed to subdue Dean and Seamus (they could thank him for the concussions later) before ensuring the rest of the men were secure. Hermione tired quickly, her wounds taking their toll and with the last vestiges of his own energy he rushed over to cover her back.

They fought as extensions of one another, pushing back up to the quarter-deck, overcoming their mutual fatigue to withstand the descending wave. Once Hermione resumed control, it seemed things were looking up. The mist was gradually starting to disperse, and the sirens lost their initial ferocity.

As if by magic, the second the bowsprit passed the threshold the ship fell silent. The mist dispersed revealing a final promising glimpse of the setting sun, the tension around them went slack and the men began to wake with grateful cheers. Once they were clear of the murky waters surrounding the Splinter, he enlisted the help of Potter, Finnigan and Thomas to untie (or unlock) the remaining men. Fingers shaking with the last remnants of adrenaline and relief.

 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop me a line in the comments, feedback is always encouraged (as are Kudos) 
> 
> the last chapter before Smut and then it's just the epilogue to go :D
> 
> xo- Em


	6. Simple Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: SMUT HAS ARRIVED PEOPLE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very little plot here, it's mostly filth for these two awkward virgins.

 

oOo

Each of them thankful for their lives, they retired for the evening with strict orders to recuperate, leaving Hermione and Draco alone to figure themselves out. It took her seconds to march over and cuff him upside of the head, honestly, he expected worse.

“If you ever—" Smack. "—do anything so colossally stupid again—" smack. "—I swear, I will tear you limb from limb!”

“Well, I’ve never been terribly clever with you around.”

He tried to joke, hoping to lighten the mood but the fiery look in her eyes was terrifying, quickly bringing him to task.

“You're right, you turn into a clumsy, stammering mess… But I could have lost you today!”

“And whose fault would that have been, Hermione!?”

She looked downcast and he decided it might be best not to push the argument. They’d spent years running in circles around one another and he was tired of wasting time. Two steps closer and his fingers curled beneath her chin, overcoming her resistance to meet his eyes.

“You made a reckless decision, but I couldn’t just stand by and watch them slaughter you.”

“But I didn’t expect you to—”

He could feel his interjection bubbling up, there was little he could do to stop it;

When her lips met his own, he melted, pliant and giddy with the sensation of kissing her and being kissed _by_ her.

It reminded him of their childish debates back home, all passion and irreverence; his fingers wound into her wild hair, pulling her closer, in turn, she bit his lip and when she was done, slipped her tongue in his mouth in the most wonderful display of power. Her hands searched for whatever advantages they could reach, seeking purchase in his lapels, carding through his hair (he’d almost laughed at how firm a grip she’d taken, and how much he liked it). What she did to him, he returned ardently, though reaching for her lapels to keep her steady was far more sensual in comparison.

When they finally came up for air, he understood what it meant to ‘ravish’. She bore the evidence of his attention perfectly. Her hair coiled in every direction where his hands had mussed it; a deep blush spread down from her cheeks as she realised they were quite visible, it dipped down the v of her shirt and he wanted to follow it with his tongue, her lips were stained cherry red and kiss-stung… Positively ravishing.

With his mind finally working again, he swiftly scooped her up in his arms, carrying her across the deck to her cabin while resisting the urge to kiss every inch of her radiant face. When he finally set her down, he refused to let her stray from his side; safe inside her cabin, with their frustration and rage diminished, things felt decidedly soft and tender between them as he stared down at her, working up the courage to bare his soul to her. Unfortunately, that meant once he reached a sufficient level of bravery, he blurted it out.

“I wanted to leave with you that night.”

A simple statement and yet it was such sweet, long-awaited reprieve.

“Y-you, what?”

Her shock was palpable as she tried to understand, it was almost adorable the way she blinked rapidly, her mouth forming a perfect little ‘o’.

“I was a coward, I should have joined you the night Port Royal was attacked, and I should have told you how I felt but instead I just… I…”

His explanation caught painfully in his throat as he tried to help her understand. The muscles in his jaw ticked, clenching with his efforts to restrain his emotions.

“I never expected you to love me; let alone give it all up on a whim.”

Draco was exasperated by how quickly he managed to find his voice after that;

“But that’s the thing, Hermione, it wouldn’t have been a whim.”

“You say that _now_ ; hindsight is a powerful thing.”

“And immediate regret isn’t? I lost my nerve; so, I did the only thing I could think of to protect you at the time, I took the easy way out instead of just following you.”

“I didn’t—I _don’t_ want you to follow me! I don’t want anything from you.”

He paused, considering her words before refuting her;

“We both know that is a lie, darling.”

She opened her mouth, preparing to deny it; but he cut her off before she could speak.

“If you wanted nothing from me, you would have let Krum keep me for his petty ransom.”

“That has noth—”

“Admit it! be _honest_ with yourself!”

“FINE! I admit it; I needed you alive, not because I wanted answers, I had to –mmpf!”

He crushed his lips to hers, finally hearing what he’d hoped for since Virgin Magra. It was more than just a declaration of love; Her surprise radiated through and just as she began to respond, he forced himself to pull away.

“You needed me…” he remarked with wonder.

“Of course I needed you, Draco; you're all I’ve thought of since I left home. I love you.”

“Then what is it that you want from me? Because I know what I want…”

“I want you to stay. It’s selfish, but that’s what I want.”

“It’s not selfish, not if I love you too.”

This time, when he kissed her it was a slow and tender act. Under his touch she bloomed, opening for him and merging in the sweetest of ways. She ensnared his senses completely; the feel of her skin, soft as rose petals, the scent of her hair, the taste of rum shared between them earlier, the sound of her gasps and delicate moans as they fell into her bed (having been interrupted once he was sure to pause and bolt the door beforehand).

Setting his mind to the task of undressing her, they alternated, losing clothing in turn, piece by piece; until she lay stretched out before him in nothing but her stays. Having her so willingly bare before him, was nothing short of dizzying, she was glorious in her rawest form, but there was little time to appreciate it; both fully divested of clothing, she was quick to push him back onto the mattress and sit astride him.

It was then they were both forced to take pause; admitting their inexperience to one another and discussing how to actually undertake making love. Fortunately, they weren’t completely naïve.

Her small hands traced his chest and he let her take her time mapping his body, enjoying the feel of her curious fingers over his pale skin. From his position beneath her, he could admire her fully, wisps of her luscious hair fell around them, and her breasts heaved with her gasp when he slid his fingers over the curls at her mound, reaching for her unimaginably slick folds, providing the friction she so desperately needed against her clit. He rubbed the little bud as per her instruction, changing his technique every now and then to test what she liked; her sharp intakes of breath and whining moans alerted him to her preferences for tight circles or quick vertical strokes.

When he slipped one finger, then another into her cunt, fascinated by the soft, slick feel of her and the undecided rhythm he set, she began earnestly chasing her release; undulating her shapely hips, grinding against his palm, driving him mad with lust. He wondered if she realised she was also grinding her delectable arse over his straining cock, though the self-satisfied look she gave him when she redoubled her efforts, drawing a ragged sigh from deep within him, should have been the first indication it was entirely intentional.

They built each other up, climaxes fast approaching as they healed years of separation and denial together; He steadied her when she began to falter, her muscles strained and shaking above him, his idle hand gripped her thigh, keeping her in place while she shattered, gushing all over his fingers when her orgasm hit unexpectedly.

He could feel her clenching around his fingers, and she bent to kiss him while he gently thumbed her clit, working her through the final waves of her release; Draco realised at that moment, his heart had never been more fulfilled, even as he throbbed with his own lack of completion. When he pulled his hands away from her, he brought his glistening fingers to his lips, dying to know if she tasted as divinely sweet as he’d imagined; one taste and next time he would be sure to use his mouth on her to quench his new addiction.

Hermione was occupying herself while he planned her future ruin in their bed, and he snapped back to the present. She kissed her way across his chest, like lightning, never in the same place twice. When her sharp little teeth took hold of his nipple, rolling it gently, he surprised himself with the obscene sound he made, she was as bold as he’d assumed; continuing her path downward he was caught off guard by the sight of his straining length in her small hands. When she took him in her mouth for the first time, his vision went white and he was forced to bite back a scream of pleasure.

Only hearing that she loved him came close to the sensations she elicited when she touched him. Her eyes locked with his, while she learned what made him twitch with need, or groan with the frustration of restraint. She worked at it for some time but as he felt his release drawing nearer he knew that he wasn’t prepared for this to end. He wanted everything if she was willing.

With a gentle caress and the lightest tug on her hair, he halted her ministrations and pulled her up for a searing kiss, putting her on her back and making his intent clear, kissing along her collarbones as she relaxed into his embrace.

“Another time dearest, I want to feel you come around me.”

She nodded and he saw the barest hint of shyness in her eyes. At least he assumed it was.

“I think I figured it out.”

His interest piqued, looking up at her with his head pillowed on her chest, rising and falling with her breathing as he waited for her theory.

“The entire crew claimed to see women they loved; wives, sisters, mothers… But the sirens, they couldn’t tempt you? What did you see instead?”

“Nothing… Well, not nothing, those things attacking you were vile.”

“Yes, but you could see _them_ and me, the _real_ me. I think that means something.”

“I’d be inclined to agree with your hypothesis but without conducting a proper experiment there's really no way to—”

She swatted at him gently for his jest, gracing him with a smile that stole his breath and made him dizzy as they giggled together. The atmosphere charged between them once again, heavy with purpose as he took a moment to phrase his truth and knowledge.

“— It means I wasn’t lying when I said I love you. Those three words were years in the making, and not just the three we spent forced apart. Fate brought us together again and no amount of magic could possibly make me lose sight of you, darling…” she reached for him as he spoke, caressing gently making him pause to enjoy the sensation.

“…I wasn’t tempted by their lies because reality was a place where you said you loved me too. A simple conclusion really.”

He smirked up at her and felt his heart bloom when her expression turned joyous with her belief in his theory. Her hands found his cheeks, stroking lightly with her thumbs as her eyes betrayed adoration that mirrored his own. He ducked his head to place a feather-light kiss above her heart and revelled in the blush that emanated from there, a natural reminder of his direction.

He kissed and sucked his way up her slender throat; admiring the way she responded, gooseflesh following in his wake as he prepared to claim her body as he had her heart. She was more than enthusiastic, returning his ardour and spurring him on.

His growing need to be inside her was only overshadowed by his trepidation; he fretted over the pain he might cause, but she solved the conundrum for him. Her lithe, strong legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and she took charge before he could form a thought, notching his length at her entrance, she pushed her hips forward and took him in a surprisingly swift movement.

There was no way to describe how it truly felt, the swirling emotions of finally being together, in every capacity, and the sensation of her tight little cunt pulsing around him as she acclimated was beyond comprehension.

“Draco, move, please…”

He was her obedient servant. He pulled away as slowly as he dared, feeling her inner muscles work to keep him in, betraying her request, he came as close as he could to withdrawing before sliding back in again at a torturously slow pace.

He knew enough to be gentle, but it seemed she was having none of it, she scrabbled for purchase against him, with an almost feral growl and they quickly found a rhythm that suited them both. It wasn’t quite what he had expected but he welcomed it all the same. It suited them and there was something thrilling about the frantic way they devolved into a lustful frenzy.

The soundscape of their lovemaking was something that would stay with him forever; the snap of skin meeting skin, her stifled mewls and obscene, muffled moans when his fingers reached for her clit; his movements were unpracticed but still effective, her bed creaked in time with each thrust and he found that the gentle sway of the ship was rather helpful when they slowed to rock against one another after a change in position.

Having her above him provided the most heavenly of opportunities and he knew better than to squander it. Her breasts bounced before his face in the most tantalizing way as she rode him, and he could hardly resist laving attention to the soft swells of flesh. By the grace of God, he managed to hold back his orgasm until she hit her peak, his determination obvious as she encouraged him to hold on just that little bit longer.

Knowing and feeling how close she was, pushed him over the edge. Her walls gripping him tight as she circled her hips was sweet torture and when she finally came with a sharp bite to his shoulder to muffle her cry, he was with her, pulling out just in time to paint her pale flesh with his spend.

With a tired huff, he fumbled blindly for the cloth and basin he’d noticed on her end table, cleaning them up with her still perched in his lap, peppering soft kisses over his face in the afterglow.

Looking up at her now, he wondered how he’d gone so long without her; the decision was made for him the second he saw her standing on the dunes above him; he was going to be lost at sea, like his heart before him.

Tangled together, they relaxed in the silence surrounding them, there was nothing that could really be said. A few minutes passed before he realised sleep was inevitable and their current position untenable; he pulled her into the depths of her mattress and tucked them in, curling around her before letting the lapping swell rock them both to sleep.

 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go 
> 
> please feel free to shout at me in the comments or leave kudos if you enjoyed this chapter. I've discovered I actually love writing smut and feedback gives me all the encouragement I need to continue indulging 
> 
> xo- Em


	7. Epilogue

 

Epilogue

The following dawn brought less peril but packed plenty of intrigue. With the danger mostly behind them (it was still the Caribbean) and no set course, the entire ship had a lighter air about it.

They walked out hand in hand and met surprisingly approving stares from all aboard, including Sirius. With the ship returned to its normal working state, he finally managed to complete his mission, taking Hermione aside to explain his purpose.

 

Meanwhile, Draco was thoroughly vetted by her friends, though his eyes never left her.

 

oOo

“You mean to tell me they’ve kicked that slimy prick, James, out of England!?”

“…And now we’re at war with the French.”

“You can’t be serious!?”

He smirked at her and she knew he’d caught her homophonic slip. However, it was hardly the time for jokes and he restrained his wit to allow her to process the news.

There was little Hermione could do to hide her shock; not only was she being pardoned, but she was also being offered a commission in the royal navy; a woman… it was almost comical; If Sirius hadn’t known her gender, she doubted the King would.

“Then who _is_ granting this pardon?”

“That would be His Majesty King William the third, of Orange.”

“This is… More than I ever could have asked for, but…”

“But, you have a purpose?”

“My crew will have the freedom to choose, and I accept the pardon, but my place isn’t in the Navy.”

“Then what can your apologetic King offer you?”

She took a moment to consider, mulling over her options before an idea struck.

“Lord Black, I think I might have a solution that will be mutually beneficial...”

 

oOo

Two weeks later Hermione and Draco Malfoy sailed into Port Royal, for the first time in three years; united and bold, their wedding bands already forming tan lines under the scorching Caribbean sun. Home greeted them with the familiar shouts of sailors readying for the next voyage and flocks of heralding gulls. Draco offered his hand to steady her as she navigated stepping onto the dock in her ridiculously impractical ‘best dress’ and she proudly took hold of his arm, her fingers curling tightly around his bicep, the only indication of nerves as they walked to their carriage, Sirius and her crew following close behind, seeing the port with free eyes for the first time.

“I hope he doesn’t attempt to murder me when he finds out.”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

“How can you be sure? He’s been trying for the last three years and I doubt he’ll be forgiving when he finds out you’ve eloped with the likes of me.”

“The likes of you? I think you have that backwards, darling.”

“You know what I meant; I'm not a lady or an heiress, I'm a thief and pirate… And a good one at that, I stole Lucius Malfoy’s son.”

“Married him too, just for good measure…” He paused to lovingly kiss her cheek, smirking like the cat who got the cream. “…Which renders your statement inaccurate. You are a lady, _my_ Lady and I seem to recall our vows included ‘what’s mine is yours’. As for your being thief and pirate, you’ve been pardoned, there's nothing my father can do to revoke that, Governor or not…. ‘Or not’ being the operative in this case.”

She snuggled closer at that, comforted by the plot constructed by her husband and the King’s emissary. Somehow, deposing his father as governor didn’t strike her with confidence, her nerves, on the other hand, were another matter entirely.

Draco, ever oblivious, and so incredibly lovestruck, couldn’t seem to care; hoisting her into his arms, hoop skirt and all; carrying her over the threshold into the familiar, opulent entryway.

In a matter of minutes, the world tipped off its axis. Sirius relieved Lucius of his duties, Draco sufficiently compensated his parents for their shares in ‘Malfoy Enterprises’ and politely introduced her as his wife and business partner; she was thankful their shock also silenced any disapproving comments.

 

oOo

In the weeks that followed, they settled into married life, running the Malfoy empire side by side; it was a match made in heaven, with her seafaring reputation and most of her former crew captaining ships of their own, they were unstoppable; pirates dared not touch their ships and business had never been better.

With the support of Sirius and Draco, Hermione used her newfound status to quietly free every slave they could; offering them passage back to their homelands or decent lodgings and paid work. Unfortunately, the law cared little for her efforts, the profits too lucrative, but she could rest easier knowing she had helped in her own way.

 

oOo

Months later when she found herself land-ridden and pregnant, standing with her husband, smiling like a fool as they welcomed her crew, _their_ family home; she could honestly say that she would do it all over again, so long as fate led her here.

oOo

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Errol Flynn and Olivia DeHavilland give me all the Dramione feels so I doubled up on the AU goodness and loosely followed the plot of their first film together. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments, feedback and or Kudos, it makes my day hearing from you lovely people 
> 
> xo- Em


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